ACT ONE
A living-room. Very old and very French, like Versailles exploded and scattered fleurs de lis and toisons d'or all over the place: Heavy wallpaper on the upstage wall, a chandelier, drapes, mirrors, chaise lounges, dressed chairs, fat cherubs and painted vases, flower arrangements. Less is not more. More is not enough. Go crazy. Also, a large portrait covered by a thick black veil hangs over the fake fireplace and dominates the room. The living-room set is flanked by two curtains (the wings). Music: “Four Season” by Vivaldi, or something like that. Overused. Lights slowly up on two maids dusting the room. They speak with heavy French accents. Lucianne can’t really pull it off. Her actual French is even worse.
HORTENSE
I felt him!
LUCIANNE
Oh, Hortense—
HORTENSE
I did, Lucianne! It was late last night... I was putting out the fire, and I felt him... A presence. Lurking. Behind me.
LUCIANNE
You are imagining things. Luhrg... Luhrgking. Who taught you such worghs?
HORTENSE
Oh... There is something wrong with this house... Ever since/ the master
LUCIANNE
Don’t say it!
HORTENSE
Left us.
LUCIANNE
(Oh, such bad French:)
Silence, Hortense! Pas plus des mots!
HORTENSE
Écoute-moi, Lucianne! Yes. Our dear master...
She looks around. Then, a whisper:
Died... Under such mysterious circumstances...
Lucianne gasps and crosses herself. Hortense keeps cleaning the room and proceeds with the blatant exposition.
Exactly one year ago today... But sometimes it feels like he took this household with him... Or... Never left!
LUCIANNE
Zont zay zat!
Beat.
Huh?
HORTENSE
Last night... I heard his voice—
LUCIANNE
No.
HORTENSE
A rustling behind me... Steps. The sound of his cane against the hardwood floor.
Lucianne swoons.
LUCIANNE
You must ‘ave imaginz it!
HORTENSE
I know what I felt... But... Peut-être you’re right...
The sound of the Varsouviana Polka from “A Streetcar Named Desire”: Only Hortense seems to hear it. She is lost in the music for a moment. She might also develop a slight facial tic -or crazy eyes- to overemphasize the moment’s drama.
HORTENSE (CONT’D) The human mind is prone to such digressions... It is frail, and feeds itself with hope.
The Varsouviana fades.
I know what/ I felt.
LUCIANNE
(Again with the French:)
Non Hortense... Est impossible!
Pause. They keep cleaning the room.
HORTENSE
Henri arrives today/ He will—
LUCIANNE
Henri?/ You call him—?
HORTENSE
Monsieur DesChamps.
LUCIANNE
You speak/ his name with such—
HORTENSE
Monsieur... Arrives today. He has only been away for two months, but the house feels different without him... Unprotected. What a strange coincidence, Lucianne... As you well know, he was bound to arrive three days ago, but the summer storm kept him at bay... Maybe his late father didn’t want him here until... The anniversary.
They turn to look at the covered portrait. Dramatic music. Lights shift.
Yes. I may have imagined certain things... But then, certain others are beyond the imagination...
Pause. Dramatic music fades. Lights restore. The maids jump into action.
LUCIANNE
We need more flowers!
HORTENSE
Yes. Madame Louise wants to bathe the room in flowers...
LUCIANNE
Do you think, Hortense...? Do you think madame will tell her son about Jerome?
HORTENSE
Oh, je ne sais pas...
LUCIANNE
He’s almost living here.
HORTENSE
Madame’s young lover—
LUCIANNE
She should still be in mourning/ for monsieur DesChamps—
HORTENSE
They are careless! They must hide their dirty love—
LUCIANNE
No, don’t say that... Madame is a paragon of virtue!
The doorbell rings.
HORTENSE
Is that?
LUCIANNE
Monsieur Henri DesChamps!
HORTENSE
Call Madame, call Madame!
They try to organize and clean the room in a hurry, they place vases with flowers and dust everything.
Monsieur DesChamps is here! Monsieur DesChamps—!!
Henri makes an entrance. His accent is British.
HENRI
Call me Henri, Hortense.
Lights shift. Grand entrance music. Henri faces the audience, strikes a pose and pauses for applause. As long as it takes. Then he turns to face Lucianne:
Lucianne, is it?
LUCIANNE
Yes, monsieur.
HENRI
Take my coat.
LUCIANNE
Oui, monsieur.
Lucianne takes the coat and cane. Henri should remove at least five or six articles of clothing and still look overdressed. Hortense looks at him in silence. Lucianne leaves.
HENRI
Is my mother up?
HORTENSE
I’ll go fetch her, Monsieur—
He gestures for her to stay.
HENRI
No. Stay... I would so like to surprise her...
Henri and Hortense look at each other for a moment. Then they run into each other’s arms and kiss passionately.
HORTENSE
Oh, Henri... Henri...
HENRI
Hortense... My love, my little flower...
They kiss. He takes her hands and kisses the tips of her fingers. They share a long look.
HORTENSE
I’ve felt empty without you, Henri... You’ve been gone for/ so long...
HENRI
Shh... I hear someone.
HORTENSE
Lucianne is my friend/ she’ll keep our secret.
HENRI
No... No... There is something I must tell you, Hortense... You must know.
HORTENSE
I have something to/ tell you as well.
HENRI
I’m married. I have a wife.
Shock! Dramatic music. Hortense backs away. Lights out.
~ ~ ~
Transition music and lights: Stagehands emerge dressed like french servants and move a few things around. A plate with finger food and chocolates is set. The furniture is shifted a bit. Nothing major. It should be obvious that the stage hands are looking for spike marks on the floor. The stagehands leave. The actors playing Henri, Pauline, Louise, Lucianne and Hortense enter and take their positions. They remain frozen mid grand gesture, waiting for the light cue.
~ ~ ~
Lights up on the living-room. Henri and Pauline are sitting together. She fans herself constantly and smiles too much. Her laugh should get on our nerves pretty quickly. Across from them sits Louise DesChamps, Henri’s mother. She pops chocolates into her mouth. Pauline and Louise both have slight British accents. Hortense and Lucianne are pouring wine. Dead face.
HENRI (CONT’D) So I told them... I said... We are not talking about the poor, Monsieur LaChance... Such topics should be reserved for the senate! For the senate! ha ha ha!
LOUISE
Oh, the poor bore me. As do the bourgeoisie and the upper classes... Everyone bores me so.
She eats a chocolate. Henri gets up and walks towards the fireplace.
HENRI
My dear mother, having been away for so long, I do believe I’ve been inexcusably neglectful in my duties as a son... Are you well?
Pauline springs up. She’s also loud.
PAULINE
Yes, belle-mère, do tell!
Louise stares at Pauline with obvious distaste.
LOUISE
Oh... I’ve been.
She shares a look with Lucianne.
LOUISE (CONT’D) Otherwise entertained
Lucianne blushes. Hortense scolds. Henri reaches the fireplace and is about to turn when he discovers a small red object: What’s a clown nose doing onstage? He picks up the nose and it honks loudly, so he quickly pockets it and turns to look at the covered portrait. He’s back in character.
HENRI
My dear father... He had such life... Such passion! I find it almost impossible to believe ❋ I find it ❋ ❋ ❋ I find ❋ ❋ ❋ A terrible shadow ❋ ❋ ❋ ❋
Pauline laughs nervously Henri restarts.
My dear father... It’s so sad ❋ ❋ ❋
LOUISE
Oh, darling... You must hate the veil that covers his portrait...
PAULINE
And miss him terribly? Maybe... Every day of your wretched life?
HENRI
Indeed! I hate it! The veil! My dear father had a lot of life... Uh, covering his memory seems like an insult.
PAULINE
Oh, Henri, you have such passion!
Hortense lowers her head.
HENRI
❋ ❋
PAULINE
Oh, the desperate musings of a grieving son... You’re a true poet, Henri... A true poet!
Pauline laughs again.
HENRI
❋ ❋ ❋
LOUISE
Oh... Well, my darling son, perhaps you should... + + + Finish your wine...
Hortense runs to pour the wine that they skipped over.
PAULINE
Or not, my dear, husband... you really shouldn’t drink, ha ha ha... Why don’t we... Talk about our plans for the future...? Or the beauty of country life— + + +
LOUISE
UNVEIL THE PORTRAIT!
PAULINE
The... portrait? Now?
Henri turns to look at the covered portrait and walks to it. Pauline walks behind him. Louise signals Lucianne to approach her.
LOUISE
(A whisper:)
Lucianne... You must deliver this letter to my young lover, to Jerome—
LUCIANNE
(A whisper:)
But madame—
HENRI
I must uncover the portrait of my father!
Louise gives the letter to Lucianne.
PAULINE
Yes, my love!
LOUISE
Are you certain?
HENRI
❋ ❋ Yes! I am!
Henri unveils a portrait of Jean Luc DesChamps. Elegant and refined... But the eyes are bleeding! Lightning and thunder. Go for it. Louise and Pauline scream.
HENRI (CONT’D) What is this?
LUCIANNE LOUISE
(Aside, British accent:) (Aside:)
Your trust/ will be your ultimate No, Jean Luc,/ forgive me! Forgive my downfall, Louise DesChamps! sins!
HENRI
(Loud, over their speeches:)
My father’s portrait! What does this mean?!
Hortense faints. They hold a dramatic pose as the curtain falls and music soars. Lucianne also holds a dramatic pose, though she should have been offstage by now. [Actually, the curtain only falls for the Champs du Péché audience. We can still see everyone onstage, but in a “curtain down” effect.]
~ ~ ~
Everyone holds for one more second, and then relax at the same time. All accents are now neutral. Stagehands walk in to do the changeover. They work around the actors.
JOHN (HENRI) What the fuck?
ROSE (LUCIANNE) What happened?
JOHN
I don’t know... I blanked.
ABIGAIL (LOUISE) I think I skipped like ten minutes.
PAULINE (JEN) The whole “moving to the country” part... My monologue—
MARGE (HORTENSE) The wine—
ABIGAIL
(To Rose:)
Well, at least I gave you the letter—
ROSE
I didn’t have time to do my aside—
MARGE
Weren’t you supposed to leave with the letter?
ROSE
I was trying to say my fucking line—
JEN
Rose... Language.
ABIGAIL
What a mess...
JOHN
Guys... I’m really sorry. I don’t know what happened.
Billy (Jerome) walks in.
BILLY (JEROME) First act’s over? Already?
ABIGAIL
John forgot his lines.
JOHN
Shit!
The Stage Manager’s voice is heard through the loudspeakers.
RYAN’S VOICE John?
JOHN
Ryan, I’m really sorry...
RYAN’S VOICE Are you ready to go on for the Second Act? Is this something we need to worry about?
JOHN
No... I’m fine. I just need to focus. I know the part.
RYAN’S VOICE I trust that you can do it, John... but we/ need to know if—
JOHN
I’ll do it. Trust me, Ryan. Everyone. I’ll be fine.
ABIGAIL
(Sighs:)
I’ll go change.
RYAN’S VOICE Fifteen minutes, everyone.
ALL
Thank you, fifteen.
They start to leave.
BILLY
Who’s John’s understudy?
ROSE
Shh/ don’t—
JOHN
Why are you asking that?
MARGE
I think it was that Clown.
BILLY JOHN
Oh. Right. Him. Hey! Hey!
BILLY (CONT’D) Too bad Ryan fired him.
Marge looks at John:
He had Ryan fire him.
Billy looks at Marge:
Really?
ABIGAIL
Oh... No, we really don’t want him back.
Marge, Abigail, Jen and Billy are gone.
JOHN
I don’t need an understudy! You hear me?!
ROSE
John. It’s okay.
JOHN
I’m John Strone!
ROSE
They know that.
John sits in a chair one of the stagehand was about to strike.
Honey...
She looks at the stagehand. The stagehand backs away offstage.
JOHN
I really don’t know what happened... We’ve been doing this stupid play for so long—
ROSE
You just got/ distracted—
JOHN
I never forget my lines. I’m proud of my frigging memory. You know me. Everyone calls me—
ROSE
“Off-Book John”.
JOHN
“Off-Book by the first rehearsal, John!” I mean: Long Day’s Journey into Night... That was really, really long!
ROSE
You’re just tired.
He sighs. Frustrated.
ROSE
John.
He puts his hand in his pocket, searching for the Clown nose.
JOHN
Where the hell’s that nose?